Discipline: A Novel

CHAPTER VII.

RECOVERED from my indisposition, I resumed my gay career.
But who ever spent a week in retirement without projecting some
reform, however partial, some small restraint upon desire, or some
new caution in its gratification? I determined to observe more
circumspection in my conduct towards Lord Frederick; though
Miss Arnold laboured to convince me that our flirtation might
now be carried on with more safety than ever, since the parties
were aware that it could have no serious issue. Tete-a-tete with
her in my dressing-room, I could detect the fallacy of her arguments,
and refused to be misled by them. The most imprudent
being upon earth makes many a judicious resolution; and may
trace his errors less to the weakness of his judgment than to the
feebleness of his self-command.

The first party which I joined after my convalescence was at a
concert and petit souper which Lady G. gave to fifty-eight of her
particular friends. As soon as I entered the room, my attention
was arrested by a group, consisting of Lady Maria de Burgh, her
favourite Lady Augusta Loftus, Lord Frederick, and Lord Glendower.
Lady Augusta seemed assiduous to entertain my admirer,
who, lounging against a pillar, with his eyes half shut, appeared
only to study how he might answer her with the slightest possible
exertion of mind or muscle. Perceiving me, Lady Maria touched
her friend's arm, as if to direct her eye towards me; then whispered
behind her fan somewhat which seemed immoderately
entertaining to both. A rudeness which ought to have awakened
only my pity, roused my resentment, and I piously resolved to
seize an early opportunity of retort. The party continued their
merriment, and I even observed Lady Augusta endeavouring to
engage Lord Frederick to join in it. This was too much; and I
resolved to show Lady Augusta that I was no such despicable
rival. But I had been accustomed to accept, not to solicit, the
attentions of Lord Frederick, and I waited till he should accost
me. Lord Frederick, however, seemed entirely insensible to my
presence. His eye did not once wander towards me; indeed the
assiduity of his companion left scarcely even his eyes at liberty.
Weary of watching Lady Augusta's advances to my quondam
admirer, I at last condescended to claim his notice by passing
close to him. A distant bow was the only courtesy which I
obtained. I was asked to sing, and chose an elaborate bravura,
which Lord Frederick had often declared to be divine. In the
midst of it I saw him break from his obsequious fair one, and
approach me. My heart, I own, bounded with triumph. Premature
triumph, alas! He addressed our hostess, who was bending
over me; pleaded indispensable business; and leaving the divine
bravura to more disengaged hearers, withdrew.

Lord Frederick's "indispensable business" was the next day
explained by a report that he had passed the night in a gaming-house,
where he had lost five-and-twenty thousand pounds. Miss
Arnold spoke with the tenderest compassion of this disaster,
"smoothing my ruffled plumes," by ascribing it to the desperation
occasioned by his late disappointment. Forgetting that she had
so lately ridiculed my romantic estimate of the force of his passion,
she suddenly appeared convinced that it was strong enough to
account for the most frantic actions. Folly itself is not so credulous
as self-conceit. I more than half believed, though I affected
to disprove her assertion. It approached, indeed, to the truth
more nearly than she suspected. Money, however obtained, was
absolutely necessary to Lord Frederick; and mine being beyond
his reach, he had recourse to fortune. But, in calculating upon
the actions of the gay, the liberal Lord Frederick, the narrow motives
of interest never once entered into my account. Dazzled by
the false spirit indicated by the magnitude of his loss, and pleased
with the cause to which vanity ascribed it, I had half pardoned his
late neglect, when I that evening met him at Mrs. Clermont's
rout.

So crowded were the rooms that I was not aware when he
entered; and when I first observed him he was standing in close
conversation with Miss Arnold. Even pride can make concessions
where it imagines cause of pity. I condescended to give Lord
Frederick another opportunity of renewing his attention, and
moved towards him through the crowd. My friend and he were
conversing with great earnestness; and, as I approached them
from behind, I caught the last words of their dialogue. His lordship's
speech concluded with the expression, "I should look confoundedly
silly." Miss Arnold's answer was, "The thing is impossible;
he has not another relation upon earth, except--"

Seeing me at her side, Miss Arnold stopped abruptly, and, I think,
changed colour; but I had no time to make observations, for Lord
Frederick, seizing my hand, exclaimed, "Ah, you cruel creature,
have you at last given me an opportunity to speak with you? I
thought you had been determined to cut me, since old squaretoes
interfered." I carelessly answered, that I had not made up my
mind on that subject: but, had my reply been delayed a few moments,
it could not have been uttered with truth; for just then
Lady Maria came to request, with no small earnestness, that her
brother would go and exhibit to Lady Augusta Loftus a trick with
cards, which it seems he could perform with singular dexterity.
"We shall see who will prevail," thought I, and I seated myself
as if to evince my resolution of remaining where I was. Lord
Frederick immediately excused himself to his sister; and she at
last, in evident vexation, relinquished her attempt.

This little victory raised my spirits; and I enjoyed with double
relish, and provoked with double industry, the jealous glances
with which I was watched by Lady Maria and her fair friend.
Lord Frederick, on his part, had never been so assiduous to entertain.
He flattered, made love, spoke scandal, and even threw out
some sarcasms upon the jealousy of his sister. How had enmity
perverted my mind, when I could tolerate this unnatural assassination!
How had it darkened my understanding, when I shrank
not with suspicion from the heart which was dead to the sacred
charities of kindred!

In the course of our conversation, Lord Frederick rallied me on
the subject of the masked ball, urging me to give my reasons for
refusing the tickets. Weakly ashamed to be suspected of submitting
to authority, I employed every excuse except the true one;
and, among others, alleged, that I was unacquainted with the lady
by whom the ball was to be given. Lord Frederick insisted upon
introducing his relation, Lady St. Edmunds, to me; declaring
that he had often heard her express a desire to be of my acquaintance.
I could not resist the temptation of this introduction, for
Lady St. Edmunds was of the highest fashion. I protested, indeed,
that my resolution, with regard to the masquerade, was
immutable, but I suffered Lord Frederick to go in search of his
gay relative.

He soon returned, leading a lady, in whose appearance some
half-a-dozen wrinkles alone indicated the approach of the years of
discretion. Her cheek glowed with more than youthful roses.
Her eye flashed with more than cheerful fires. Her splendid
drapery loosely falling from her shoulders, displayed the full contour
of a neck whiter than virgin innocence, pure even from the
faintest of those varying hues which stain the lilies of nature. She
addressed me with much of the grace and all the ease of fashion,
loaded me with compliments and caresses, and charmed me with
the artful condescension which veils itself in respectful courtesy.
She proposed to wait upon me the next day, and entreated that I
would allow her the privilege of old acquaintance, by giving orders
that she should be admitted. I readily consented, for indeed I was
delighted with my new friend. I was dazzled with the freedom of
her language, the boldness of her sentiments, and her apparent
knowledge of the world.

Faithful to her appointment, Lady St. Edmunds called upon me
the next morning; and though she looked less youthful, was as
fascinating as ever. No charm of graceful sportiveness, of artful
compliment, or of kindly seeming, was wanting to the attraction of
her manners. I was accustomed to the adulation of men; and
sometimes, when it was less dexterously applied, or when I was in
a more rational humour, I could ask myself which the obsequious
gentlemen admired the most--Miss Percy, or the pretty things
they said to her. But let no one boast of being inaccessible to
flattery, till he has withstood that of a superior; and let that superior
be highly bred, seemingly disinterested, and a woman. I did
not, at the time, perceive that Lady St. Edmunds flattered me; I
merely was convinced that she had a lively sensibility towards a
kindred mind, and a generosity which could bestow unenvying admiration
upon superior youth and beauty.

When she was about to retire, she mentioned her masked ball,
expressing a strong desire to see me there, and extending the
request to Miss Arnold. With one of the deepest sighs I ever
breathed, I told her of my unfeigned regret that it was out of my
power to accept her invitation. Lady St. Edmunds looked as if
she read my thoughts. "I won't be denied," said she; "be as late
as you will; but surely you may escape from your engagement for
an hour or two at least. Come, dear Miss Percy, you would not be
so mischievous as to spoil my whole evening's pleasure; and now
that I know you, there is no thinking of pleasure without you."

I was again on the point of declining, though with tears in my
eyes, when I was interrupted by Miss Arnold. "I can assure your
Ladyship," said she, "that we have no engagement; only, our
duenna does not approve of masquerades, and Ellen happens to be
in a submissive frame just now."

I could better endure the weight of my shackles than the exhibition
of them; and, the warm blood rushing to my cheek, I
answered, "That I did not suppose Miss Mortimer, or any other
person, pretended a right to control me; that I had merely yielded
to entreaties, not submitted to authority."

"And why must the duenna's entreaties be more powerful than
mine?" said Lady St. Edmunds, laying her white hand upon my
arm, and looking in my face with a soul-subduing smile.

"Dear Lady St. Edmunds!" cried I, kissing her hand, "do not
talk of entreaty. Lay some command upon me less agreeable to
my inclination, that I may show how eager I am to obey you. But
indeed, I fear--I think--I--after giving my promise to Miss Mortimer,
I believe I ought not to retract."

"Why not, my dear?" said Lady St. Edmunds. "It is only
changing your mind, you know, which the whole sex does every
day."

"You know, Ellen," said Miss Arnold, "the case is quite altered
since you talked of it with Miss Mortimer. She did not object so
much to the masked ball, as to your going with--"

"Juliet!" said I, stopping her with a frown, for I felt shocked
that she should tell Lady St. Edmunds that her nephew's attendance
was objected to by Miss Mortimer.

"Ah!" cried Lady St. Edmunds, with the prettiest air of
reproach imaginable, "I see Miss Arnold is more inclined to
oblige me than you are; so to her I commit my cause for the
present, for now I positively must tear my myself away. Good-by,
my pretty advocate. Be sure you make me victorious over the
duenna. Farewell, my lovely perverse one," continued she, kissing
my cheek. "I shall send you tickets, however. I issue only
three hundred."

Lady St. Edmunds retired, and left my heart divided between
her and the masquerade. She was scarcely gone, when Miss
Mortimer came in; and, full of my charming visitor, I instantly
began to pronounce her eulogium. I thought Miss Mortimer
listened with very repulsive coldness; of course, a little heat of a
less gentle kind was added to the warmth of my admiration, and
my language became more impassioned. "I have been told that
Lady St. Edmunds is very insinuating," said Miss Mortimer; and
this was all the answer I could obtain. My praise became more
rapturous than ever. Miss Mortimer remained silent for some
moments after I had talked myself out of breath. Perhaps she was
considering how she might reply without offence. "Such manners,"
said she, "must indeed be engaging. I see their effect in the
eloquence of your praise. I wish it were always safe to yield to
their attraction."

"Bless me! Miss Mortimer," interrupted I, "you are the most
suspicious being! I see you want me to suspect Lady St. Edmunds
of everything that is bad, and for no earthly reason but because
she is delightful!"

"Indeed, my dear Ellen," returned Miss Mortimer, "you
wrong me. I should be the last person to taint your mind with
any unfounded suspicion. But it is natural, you know, that years
should teach us caution."

"Oh!" exclaimed I, fervently clasping my hands, "if age must
chill all my affections, and leave me only a dead soul chained to a
half-living body, may Heaven grant that my years maybe few!
May I go to my grave ere my heart cease to love and trust its
fellows!"

"Dearest child!" cried Miss Mortimer, "may many a happy
year improve and refine your affections; and may they long
survive the enthusiasm which paints their objects as faultless!
But is it not better that you should know a little of Lady St.
Edmunds' character before intimacy confirm her power over
you?"

"Why should I know anything more of her than I do? I can
see that she has the most penetrating understanding, the most
affectionate heart!"

"No doubt these are great endowments; but something more
may be necessary. The proverb is not the less true for its vulgarity,
which tells us, that the world will estimate us by our
associates; and, what is still more important, the estimate will
prove just. If you form intimacies with the worthless, or even
with the suspected--"

"Worthless! suspected!" exclaimed I, my blood boiling with
indignation; "who dares to use such epithets in speaking of Lady
St. Edmunds?"

"Be calm, Ellen. I did not, at the moment that I uttered these
offensive words, intend any personal application. If I had, my
language should have been less severe. But I can inform you
that the world has been less cautious, and that those epithets have
been very freely applied to Lady St. Edmunds!"

"Yes! perhaps by a set of waspish bigots, envious of her, who
is herself so far above the meanness of envy,--or who cannot
pardon her for refusing to make Sunday a day of penance!"

Miss Mortimer, though naturally one of the most timid creatures
upon earth, was as inflexible in regard to some particular opinions,
as if she had had the nerves of a Hercules. "Indeed, Ellen," said
she, calmly, "it would be ungrateful in you, or any other woman
of fashion, to charge the world with intolerance towards Sabbath- breakers.
I fear that Lady St. Edmunds would give little offence
by her Sunday's parties, if she were circumspect in her more
private conduct."

"Bless my heart, Miss Mortimer!" cried I, "what have I to do
with the private conduct of all my acquaintance? What is it to
me, if Lady St. Edmunds spoil her children, or rule her husband,
or lose a few hundred pounds at cards now and then?"

Miss Mortimer smiled.--"Even bigots," said she, "must acquit
her Ladyship of all these faults, for she takes no concern with her
children,--she is separated from her husband,--and certainly does
not lose at cards."

"And so you, who pretend to preach charity towards all mankind,
can condescend to retail second-hand calumny? You would
have me desert an amiable, and, I am persuaded, an injured
woman, merely because she has the misfortune to be slandered?"

"When you know me better, Ellen," said Miss Mortimer,
meekly, "you will find, that it is not my practice to repeat any
scandalous tale without some better reason than my belief that it
is true. I shall not at present defend the justice of the censures
which hare fallen upon Lady St. Edmunds. I will merely offer
you my opinion, in hopes that, a few hours hence, you may reconsider
it. If a friend, whose worth you had proved, whose affection
you had secured, were made a mark for the shafts of calumny,--far
be it from you to seek a base shelter, leaving her unshielded, to
be 'hit by the archers;' but, against the formation of a new
acquaintance, the slightest suspicion ought, in my opinion, to be
decisive. The frailty of a good name is as proverbial as its value;
and virgin fame is far too precious to be ventured upon uncertainty,
and far too frail to escape uninjured even from the appearance of
hazard."

This speech was so long that it gave me time to cool, and so
incontrovertible, that I found some difficulty in replying. Before
I could summon a rejoinder, Miss Mortimer, who never pursued a
victory, had quitted the room. She had left me an unpleasant
subject of meditation; but she had allowed me to postpone the
consideration of it for a few hours; so in the meantime, I turned
my thoughts to the masquerade.

And first, by way of safeguard against temptation, I thought it
best to lay down an immutable resolution that I would not go. It
was very hard indeed to be deprived of such a harmless amusement;
but, as I had given an unlucky promise, I purposed magnanimously
to adhere to it, resolving, however, to indemny myself
the next opportunity. Thus fortified, I began to indulge my fancy in
painting what might have been the pleasures of the masquerade. I
imagined (there was surely no harm in imagining!) how well I
could have personated the fair Fatima,--how happily the turban
would have accorded with the Grecian turn of my head,--how
softly the transparent sleeves of my caftan would have shaded my
rounded arm,--how favourably the Turkish costume would have
shown the light limb, and the elastic step. I invented a hundred
witticisms which I might have uttered,--a hundred compliments
which I might have received. Above all, I dwelt upon the approbation,
the endearments of the charming Lady St. Edmunds, till
my heart bounded with the ideal joy.

How suitable to our nature is that commandment which places
upon the thoughts the first restraints of virtue! It was painful to
interrupt my delightful reverie, by renewing my resolutions of
self-denial, so I passed them over as already fixed, insensible how
fatally I was undermining their foundations. The bribe must be
poor indeed which the aids of imagination cannot render irresistible.
The longer my fancy dwelt upon my lost pleasure, the more
severe seemed my privation, the more unfounded Miss Mortimer's
prejudice. From the wish that the thing had been right, the step
was easy to the belief that it could not be very wrong. Before
the morning, my inclination had so far bewildered my judgment,
that Miss Arnold found no difficulty in persuading me to refer
the matter to my father, and, regardless of my promise, to abide
by his decision.

She herself undertook the statement of the case; for it happened,
I know not how, that, even when she spoke only truth, her statements
always served a purpose better than mine. The effect of
her adroit representation was, that my father decided in favour of the
masquerade; observing that "Miss Mortimer, though a very good
woman, had some odd notions, which it would not do for everybody
to adopt."

Thus it seemed determined that I was to enjoy the amusement
upon which I had set my heart. And yet I was not satisfied. My
gay visions were no sooner likely to be realized, than they lost half
their charms. A slight scrutiny into my own mind would have enabled
me to trace the cause of this change to a consciousness of error;
but a vague anticipation of the issue was sufficient to prevent me
from entering upon the inquiry. I therefore contented myself
with attempting to impose upon my own judgment, by asserting
that, since my father was satisfied, I was at full liberty to pursue
my inclination. "To be sure," said Miss Arnold," when Mr. Percy
has given his permission, who else has any right to interfere?"

"And will you, my dear sir, speak of it to Miss Mortimer,"
said I, anxious to transfer that task to any one who would undertake
it.

"Oh, I'll manage all that," cried Miss Arnold. "If Mr. Percy
were to mention the matter to Miss Mortimer, it would look as if
he thought himself accountable to her; and then there would be
no end of it; for she fancies already that she should be consulted
in everything that concerns you,--as if Mr. Percy, who has so
long superintended the greatest concerns in the kingdom, could
not direct his own family without her interference!"

I believe my father, as well as myself, might have some latent
misgivings of mind, which made him not unwilling to accept of
Miss Arnold's offered services. "I have so many important affairs
to mind," said he, "that I shall probably think no more of such a
trifle; so I commission you, Miss Juliet, to let Miss Mortimer
know my opinion, which I dare say you will do discreetly, for
you seem a civil judicious young lady. Elizabeth, poor soul, meant
all for the best; thinking to save me a few pounds, I suppose.
But you may let her know, that what it may be very commendable
in her to save is altogether below my notice. When a man has
thousands, and tens of thousands passing through his hands every
day, it gives him a liberal way of thinking. But as for a woman,
who never was mistress of a hundred pounds at a time, what can
she know of liberality?"

My father had now entered on a favourite topic, the necessary
connexion between riches and munificence. Miss Arnold listened
respectfully, approving by smiles, nods, and single words of assent;
while I stood wrapt in my meditations, if I may give that name to
the succession of unsightly images which conscience forced into
my mind, and which I as quickly banished. Having triumphantly
convinced an antagonist who ventured not upon opposition, my
father withdrew; and left my friend and me to consult upon our
communication to Miss Mortimer.

"She will be in a fine commotion," said I, endeavouring to smile,
"when she hears that we are going to this masquerade after all.
But since you have undertaken the business, Juliet, you may
break it to her to-night, while I am at the opera; and then the
fracas will be partly over before I come home."

"I have been just thinking," said Miss Arnold, "all the time
that your father was making that fine oration, that it would be
wiser not to break it to her at all. Where is the necessity for her
knowing anything of the matter? We shall have other invitations
for the same evening, so we may go somewhere else first, and
afterwards look in for an hour or two at the ball. Nobody need
know that we have been there."

"What, Juliet! would you have me steal off in that clandestine
way, as if I were afraid or ashamed to do what my father approves
of? If I am to act in defiance of Miss Mortimer, I will do it openly,
and not slavishly pilfer my right, as if I did not dare to assert it."

"Don't be angry, Ellen," said Miss Arnold, soothingly; "I shall
most willingly do whatever you think best. But, for my part, I
would almost as soon give up the masquerade, as be lectured about
it for the next three weeks."

"But, to give Miss Mortimer her due," returned I, "she does
not lecture much."

"That is true," replied Miss Arnold. "But then she will look
so dolefully at us. I am sure I would rather be scolded heartily
at once."

In this last sentiment I cordially sympathized; for the silent
upbraiding of the eye is the very poetry of reproach--it addresses
itself to the imagination, "I wish," cried I, sighing from the very
bottom of my heart, "that I had never heard of this ball!"

"In my opinion," said Miss Arnold, "it would save both us and
Miss Mortimer a great deal of vexation if she were never to hear
more of it."

"Say no more of that, Juliet," interrupted I; "I am determined
not to take another step in the business without her knowledge."

Miss Arnold was silent for a few moments; and when her voice
again drew my attention, I perceived tears in her eyes. "Well,
Ellen." said she, "since you are so determined, I see only one
way of settling the matter quietly. I will give my ticket to Miss
Mortimer,--she can have no objection to your going, if she be
there herself to watch you."

"Never name such a thing to me, Juliet! What! leave you
moping alone, fancying all the pleasure you might have had, while
I am amusing myself abroad. I had rather never see a mask in
my life!"

"I should prefer any thing to bringing her ill-humour upon
you," said Miss Arnold; "and since you persist in telling her, I
see no other way of escape. I shall most cheerfully resign the
masquerade to give you pleasure."

"My own dear Juliet!" cried I, locking my arms round her
neck, while unbidden tears filled my eyes, "how can you talk of
giving me pleasure by sacrificing your own, when you know that
more than half the delight of my life is to share its joys with you."
Nor were these the empty sounds of compliment, nor even the
barren expression of a passing fervour. My purse, my ornaments,
my amusements, even the assiduities of my admirers, all on which
my foolish heart was most fixed, I freely shared with her. Yet
this same Juliet--but is it for me to complain of ingratitude?--for
me, who, favoured by an all-bountiful Benefactor, abused his gifts,
despised his warnings, neglected his commands, abhorred his intercourse!
Let those who are conscious of similar demerit cease to
reproach the less flagrant baseness, which repays with evil the
feeble benefits that man bestows on man.

On the present occasion, Juliet's influence prevailed with me so
far, that, before we separated. I had agreed to a compromise.

Miss Arnold undertook to keep my father silent, which she performed
in the most dexterous manner; and with the more ease,
because, perhaps, he was conscious that the subject furnished
materials for confession as well as for narrative.

This presentation of Discipline: A Novel, by Mary Brunton
is Copyright 2003 by P.J. LaBrocca.
It may not be copied, duplicated,
stored or transmitted in any form without written permission.
The text is in the public domain.